


17th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [17]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Worship, Choking, Clothed Sex, Come Inflation, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, F/M, Grinding, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Name-Calling, Overstimulation, Size Difference, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, Sugar Daddy, Virginity Kink, Watersports, gaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-11-29 07:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 17th Batch of my fics





	1. McCree/Hanzo

**Author's Note:**

> McHanzo – continuation of B16, F 7 – sugar daddy!Hanzo; sugar baby!McCree; exhibitionism; clothed sex – Hanzo watches Jesse train and gets hot and bothered.

Hanzo will never tire of watching Jesse train. He is big and hirsute, sweating in the sun as he uses his bulk to his advantage just like his trainers have taught him.

He is not exactly what other daddies would prefer their pets to look like – or even sound like – but Hanzo’s tastes have always strayed towards the more unusual.

Jesse is like one of the stray mutts one can pick from a shelter – none of the pedigree and a whole lot of work to boot, but desperately thankful for the attention nonetheless.

Hanzo hums deep in his chest when he watches Jesse stand like a rock when one of his attackers approaches, merely bending and rolling them smoothly across his shoulder. He keeps the man’s arm gripped, and Hanzo’s breath catches as he watches his meaty biceps gently jiggle in the mild breeze as his muscles bulge in preparation of a counter attack.

“Jesse!”

His call is not particularly loud, but it still cuts through the clearing, all motion stopping in favor of the four individuals fighting (just for his viewing pleasure) turning their heads expectantly towards him.

He’s become an old, lewd man during Jesse’s stay, Hanzo supposes. He has drawn himself out of the line of active duty, preferring to pull the strings behind the scenes as his beard and hair grows longer and turns white, but he has the power and money to show for it.

He leans back on the one hand braced on the floor behind him, and beckons him closer with the other. His kimono is pooled artistically around him, tastefully hiding his painfully hard cock, though from the look on the men’s faces everybody knows that the old man has worked up an _appetite_.

Jesse lets go of his opponent’s arm, then slowly straightens up. There is a lazy, delicious grin on his face as he makes his way towards him, stopping on the way to collect his hat from the grass and put it on. It is the same hat Hanzo has gifted him some three or four years prior, and it never fails to delight him just how well Jesse is taking care of it. It still looks pristine and new.

“Boss?” he murmurs in deference of the other men still awkwardly standing around behind them, but quickly relents when Hanzo’s lips twitch downward.

“Daddy?” he purrs next, a distinct questioning lilt in his silky baritone voice. No, Jesse is not really what others think of when they want to get a sugar baby, but Hanzo wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hanzo curls his fingers into his kimono, twitching it to the side almost coyly and showing off the obscene bulge in his fundoshi, cock straining against the fabric so hard that there is already a wet patch starting to show through it.

“Service me.” He looks up at Jesse through his lashes, equal amounts sly and seductive as Jesse’s cheeks become a ruddy, excited red beneath his well-groomed beard.

It is flattering, how he can still call on Jesse as often as he likes and still will get the same, desperately eager reaction out of his pet: Jesse’s mouth becoming wet and open, the tip of his tongue already peeking out in anticipation of getting to fuck his throat onto his cock… Jesse’s own dick bulging big and eager behind the loose sweatpants he has donned…

Behind them, his trainers are scuttling off, leaving their Master alone with his toy in the gardens of his mansion.

Jesse is about to kneel down in the juicy grass to bury his face between Hanzo’s thighs when Hanzo unfolds his legs, bare feet braced at the edge of the low wooden walkway he is sitting on to lewdly spread his knees.

“Fuck me, baby boy,” he purrs, and Jesse obeys eagerly.

He doesn’t take the time to properly undress Hanzo, which is unexpectedly exciting. Hanzo hadn’t thought that Jesse would still be able to get his old heart pumping, but here he is: his legs on Jesse’s shoulders like a common hooker, kimono pushed to the side haphazardly and fundoshi teased to the side so Jesse can get at his cunt, cock still tangled in the sticky folds of the fabric.

“Daddy,” Jesse whines when he has managed to fumble his cock out and is letting it slap against Hanzo’s hole, not quite prepared but plenty wet with lube because he had anticipated the sight of Jesse’s exertion getting him hot and bothered.

It’s not like he isn’t used to the perverse stretch of Jesse’s big dick. He clenches his eyes shut and starts to breathe through it as Jesse begins to work his way inside. The feeling is intense but definitely worth it. He is too old, maybe, to get basically fucked raw on his young lover’s cock, but Jesse still goes cross-eyed and whiny when he’s allowed to dick his sugar daddy like he is now, and Hanzo is addicted to the sight.

He stares at Jesse’s hairy pecs when his boy starts fucking him. They bounce something nice, thick hair plastered against his skin wet with sweat, and Hanzo wishes he didn’t have to brace himself on the wooden walkway so he could get his hands on his boy.

Jesse is close to thirty now, but he’s still playing his role well. He whines for Daddy, fucking into him, giving him his big ruddy cock and nearly comes on the spot when Hanzo breathlessly promises him to gift him some new special bullets for his pistol if he can make him come on his cock just like that.

They’re both too old for this, but neither fucking cares.


	2. Lúcio/Baptiste + McCree, Reyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Baptiste + McCree, Reaper - continuation of Havin' fun fic #284 - slut shaming, name calling, all consensual - Formerly virgin Lúcio has been trained well and is shown off to Baptiste.

When Baptiste had first met the whole of the Overwatch crew, he would never have envisioned himself in this position: McCree and Reaper off to the side, fisting their big cocks and looking goddamn smug while their little pet was showing himself off, plump ass in the air and one hand pulling a cheek to the side.

“Damn,” he breathes, and then again, when Lúcio’s fingers slide over and round his already swollen looking hole: “Damn.”

He’s kneeling, cock in his motionless hand, just staring at the sight before him. He would never have thought that the happy-go-lucky DJ would have it in him; kneeling like a whore and presenting himself for all the world to see, unselfconscious… no, even giddy about it.

When he turns his head and peeks back at him, his eyes are bright and eager. He twists his hips, a whine starting to hum off of him. “Please??”

“Do you like what you see?” Gabriel murmurs, voice pitched sinfully low. Nobody answers Lúcio’s plaintive begging, but that only seems to get him hotter; makes him groan and tickle his hole with one finger; making Baptiste wonder what he’d sound like if he were to rudely fuck one of his own, bigger ones into that tasty cunt.

“Of course I do,” he scoffs. He throws a sly side-glance towards the two men. It is surreal getting watched by McCree and Reyes, but they’re naked and gorgeous and _way_ into it, and it is difficult to muster up any feelings of awkwardness around them.

McCree grins slow and lazy. His thumb is playing with his foreskin, dragging it against the swollen tip of his cock, and when he lifts one arm to put it behind his head, he shows off the thick hair under his arm.

“We’ve been training ‘im for a good two years now. Little bitch loves dick.”

Baptiste looks back at Lúcio; the way he wriggles his hips and slides his knees farther apart; how he flirts with his pouty little hole and shyly hooks the tip of a finger in, dragging it open and making Baptiste think he can just about see his dark red insides… and he can believe it immediately.

When Lúcio gets fed up with waiting, he crawls around. There’s a pout on his face and a glint in his eyes, and Baptiste thinks that for the first time in his life he has seen what _cockhungry_ looks like. This one is in _love_ with dicks, and it would be flattering that he’s chosen Baptiste as his newest infatuation if he didn’t have the distinct feeling that Lúcio could get hot and bothered for just about anybody walking past.

Still, the young man is _enthusiastic_. He has both hands on his cock, squeezing it, feeling it up before one of them is sliding down and cupping his sac, Lúcio’s eyes blowing wide and dark as he groans, wet lips already against the crown of his cock.

“You got so much for me,” he purrs, “Going to fill me up good?”

Baptiste stares at him, somewhat helplessly. He is not a stick-in-the-mud or anything, but Lúcio being a greedy sex kitten is making something in his brain stall and stall and stall. To his right he can hear someone snickering but he does not know who it is. His face must be an open book to them – or they just remember exactly how it had been when they’ve been confronted with Lúcio’s big brown eyes and his… oh God. He has a piercing.

His tongue is out, pink and silky looking, and right in the middle of the plush cushion sits a fat little silver ball which Lúcio lets him feel as he slowly drags his tongue against the crown of his head.

He keeps looking at him, staring right at Baptiste’s shining face as he slurps noisily, and Baptiste finds himself wondering blearily if this is something that Lúcio just… _does_ , or whether Reyes or McCree have trained him to do.

The thought of Lúcio being their little pet – the little puppy they train to be their perfect, human fleshlight – is something perversely hot.

“You can grab him,” Gabriel encourages, and Baptiste puts his hand on Lúcio’s head, not pushing but just holding on, staring as Lúcio is playing at being bashful and having trouble stuffing all of Baptiste’s cock down his throat until suddenly he seems bored with the game and just swallows him down.

Baptiste shouts in surprise, knees wanting to snap up to grab Lúcio’s head between his thighs. He just about manages to keep himself from doing so.

His eyes start to water when he feels one of Lúcio’s curious little fingers rubbing at his own hole.

“Fuck,” he whispers and puts a bit on pressure on Lúcio’s head after all, just watching with slack-jawed amazement as the young man takes him easily, over and over again, his eyes starting to slit in what can only be called absolute satisfaction.

When Lúcio finally pulls away, he does so with a lewd pop. Baptiste’s cock is absolutely drenched and he can’t make himself care because it has been a work of absolute _love_.

“Will you fuck me now?” Lúcio whines. He is plaintive and earnest and Baptiste drags a hand down his face, pressing it against his mouth, eying Lúcio somewhat desperately, because while he’s been around his fare share of nice warm holes, he feels like he’s going to shoot ridiculously fast if he’s going to give it to Lúcio.

“He doesn’t mind,” McCree suddenly croons and Baptiste wonders wildly if they actually _can_ read minds. “He just wants a nice warm load. He can play with himself afterwards if he’s still horny, the little slut…”

Lúcio is nodding along, mouth open, tongue out _just_ _so_ , so Baptiste can see the wet, metallic glint of his piercing-

And Baptiste just groans and nods and urges Lúcio to turn back around so he can at least give him a nice warm belly before he shoots his load all over his perky bubble butt.

Holy _shit_ what a welcome.


	3. Hank/Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank/Connor – small dick Hank who can come a couple rounds and creampie his partner up; Connor fucked into stasis; old hairy self-deprecating man!Hank; Connor luvs him a lot; crushing – Hank has never been the most well-endowed and it looks even more dire when his gut is hanging over his dick, but he still got some moves that Connor very much appreciates.

“H-HaaaAAank-” Connor’s voice is glitched, fizzing out at points but mostly crackling with static. He has trouble modulating the volume, and the harder Hank fucks into him, the worse it becomes.

He is kind of addicted to it, if he’s being honest. It’s a better vice than alcohol, he supposes.

His hand is in Connor’s perfect hair, the texture inhumanly silky and soft against Hank’s thick, rough fingers as he pulls until Connor’s head is tilted back, his pale throat exposed. There’s none of the delicious pink flush a human would exhibit when they’re as well and truly into something as Connor is now, but he has stopped being self-conscious about it.

Instead, he fixates on the LED spinning rapidly at Connor’s temple while he fucks him in sharp, barely-there thrusts. It’s more of a grinding, really; fucking in, in, in and not wanting to pull out of the suckling, perfect little hole Connor’s technicians had so thoughtfully provided him with.

The little light is yellow, yellow, yellow, and Hank thinks the sight of it might be burned into his goddamn retinas by now, but he can’t make himself look away; not when, every now and then, when Hank does a particularly good motion, it dips into a deep, dangerous red.

Connor is curled around him like an octopus, holding on, the thrum of his thirium pump almost scaldingly hot between Hank’s hairy, softened pecs. Whenever he wheezes, Hank can feel the static crackling of his voice throughout his body.

He would feel self-conscious about how he is crushing Connor into the bed, his heavy bulk pinning him down, large hirsute gut squishing Connor’s perfect, pretty android cock against his perfect, pretty android belly. (There is no other word for it; it’s a _belly_ ; cute and tight with little freckles and a goddamn oval little belly button that Hank has been more obsessed with than he likes to admit) - but with Connor clamped around him, there is no other way to give it to him, and Hank is secretly glad for it.

Hank is old and fat, and just generally out of shape, and with his gut being the way it is, dicking someone – and keeping his cock in that warm, nice space – is hard enough without having to do some fancy thrusting action.

Connor does not mind any of it. If anything, he craves Hank just _because_ of it. He loves being crushed beneath his bulk; loves analyzing the small, negligible motions of Hank’s hips as he grinds inside, the coarse hair of his belly dragging against his twitching, perfectly long cock. Or so he says. Repeatedly.

Hank’s not sure of any of it, but Connor’s sharp little nails are trying to dig grooves into his back while his dick is pressing into the squishy walls of his perfectly manufactured insides, and he’s not in the mood to try and argue the truth of it.

“HaAAaaAAnk,” Connor stutters again, his voice rising and falling pathetically as Hank tightens his grip on his hair and tugs sharply. His balls feel tight and hot and so goddamn tender that he’s sure he has to walk bow-legged for a fucking week. He’s already come twice, pumping Connor full of the cream he loves to play with – because Connor has always been _disgusting_ , putting his little fingers in places that are _Hank’s_ prerogative, just to pull out all the warm cum he’s spent hours pumping him full with and licking the sticky mess off…

Hank is huffing, grey hair plastered to his face. He’s not moving much – there’s just not much to be done when his cock is the regrettably short size that it is, and his gut being so large – yet still he is out of breath, body hot and lax from orgasms that had been just as lazy as the whole encounter; just one more slowly mounting and ebbing sensation in the sea that is the android humming and chirping and thrumming and buzzing beneath him.

Because Connor is too good for this fucking world, and damn well too good for Hank _fucking_ Anderson, and he does not need much to get himself to the state he’s in. Still, his eyes look wet and glittering as he keeps staring at Hank unblinkingly, and there is something… reverent about it that keeps this old man going, working away, filling him with load after load because while Hank’s size might leave something to be desired, he still can at least fill someone up like an old breeding bull.

Connor does not care about the size. Connor cares all about the _mess_ that Hank can leave behind. When Hank moves, incrementally, just shimmying his hips from side to side, really, the squelching sound of his cock rooting through the cum he’s deposited inside the android is loud and wet and filthy, and Connor, the perfect boy scout, jerks and _buzzes_ and has to open his mouth wide to pant out all the steaming heat that is threatening to make his body shut down.

“You like it, babe?” Hank wheezes, voice grating and sweat dripping from the tips of his hair as he stares at the underside of Connor’s jaw and the moles dotted there. “You like being my breeding bitch? Want Daddy to knock you up?”

It’s cheesy, but Connor… well. Connor is _easy_ for anything, and there’s a moment of him stalling, something in his chassis _rattling_ and making Hank want to ask if he’s okay, before the android’s body seizes and trembles, LED spinning red for a couple delicious seconds before sliding into a cool, satisfied, exhausted blue.

His fans are still whirring badly inside him, but the involuntary twitching and chirping and shifting has ceased. Hank frowns, nudges him, and, when there is no reaction, uses the grip he has on Connor’s hair to turn his head towards him. His eyes are closed, face relaxed and neutral.

Hank’s bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his mouth opening in an ‘o’ of surprise and recognition before whistling softly through the gap in his front teeth.

Fucked the kid right into stastis.

Damn… but he still got it.


	4. Jack/Gabriel/Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gabriel/Jesse – DP; creampie; overstimulation – A Gabriel sandwich. ‘nuff said.

There’s something mesmerizing about seeing Gabriel Reyes’ face open and vulnerable.

Jesse is staring right at it, mouth open in mindless wonder when he takes his dick in hand and drags the fat, swollen tip against the puffy rim of Gabriel’s filled hole just to see once more how his face contorts in nervous anticipation. 

Man can bring a drug ring down without losing his cool, but being stuffed by one fat cock and feeling another one flirting with the idea of sliding in right alongside it apparently is enough to make him go all schoolgirl-shy on them.

Next to Gabriel’s flushed, sweating face, Jack looks up at Jesse with a smug little curl to one side of his scarred mouth. He has a ridiculous tiny pair of silver glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, beefy arms curled underneath Gabriel’s massive thighs to keep his legs nice and out of the way.

A perfect little package for them to play with.

“Ya ready, boss?” Jesse croons. Gabriel hasn’t been his boss in a long while, but old habits die hard. Gabriel shakes his head ‘no’, and both Jack and Jesse laugh, low and indulgent. Jesse nudges the blunt tip against Gabriel’s slick little hole, his free hand sliding up, skirting around his painfully hard looking cock and cupping one of his bulging, warm pecs. His thumb strokes across the pebbled, dark nipple while Jack has turned his head and is murmuring sweet nothings into his ear.

There’s a high flush on his cheeks, belying how affected he is by the tight, desperate clench of Gabriel around him.

Gabriel listens intently to whatever Jack is promising him, and eventually he groans a defeated “Fuuuck” and lets his head fall back. Capitulating. Jesse laughs softly, squeezing Gabriel’s pec one last time before reaching down and touching the feverishly hot rim.

“There you go, boss. You won’t regret this.”

“Shut the fuck up, McCree,” Gabriel whimpers, and Jesse falls quiet albeit with a large grin.

.o.

Jesse doesn’t think he’s ever done anything as goddamn nerve-wracking as trying carefully fucking his dick into Gabriel Reyes’ guts. The process is painfully slow, despite – or maybe because of – Gabriel begging for it the whole time. After the initial panic has ebbed, it has made place for a wave of endorphins that has drowned Gabriel’s system the moment the fat rim of Jesse’s crown has finally popped inside, and the worst of the stretch has been dealt with.

Now, he’s babbling, begging for it (and for them to stop in equal measures) and clawing at Jesse’s chest, fingers pulling against the thick hair there until tears are in Jesse’s eyes.

“Goddamn,” he grits out while Jack, the bastard, just laughs, nuzzling against Gabriel’s jaw and cheek and wherever the damn he can reach because he can just lie back and get crushed beneath Gabriel and not have the dubious bonus of getting carved up by him in the process.

There’s no real transitioning stage for Gabriel. One moment he is tense and panting, on the edge of a panic attack from trying to fit both their dicks into his pretty little pussy, the next he is drooling and oversensitive, wanting it so much but also howling every moment Jesse shifts, because he can’t deal with the warm wave of feelings tickling through his body.

His cock is lying fat and feverishly hot against his belly, drooling into his belly button and flexing hard enough every now and then to lift itself away from his quivering six pack.

“We’re gonna fill you up nice and warm,” Jesse promises him, voice strained with the pain from getting his chest hair pulled at. He tries fucking, but all he manages is an awkward hump-and-grind because Gabriel is gripping them so tightly that it makes a nice, slow drag in and out impossible. “Get everything slick and perfect… fuck you on our cum-”

Gabriel is staring at him with big, dark eyes. Jesse is not quite sure he even understands a word he’s saying, but at least he stops clawing his chest into a red mess and lets one hand travel up, grabbing his shoulder, while the other palm presses warm and firm against Jesse’s belly.

It almost feels like he wants to try and restrict him from grinding in even deeper.

“N-No,” he whines, and Jesse stills immediately, frowning, but before he can ask, Gabriel continues: “Want… wanna be messy…”

Jack groans, long and rough, his cock – a hot line against Jesse’s dick – pulses like he’s already coming.

“Yes?” he rasps right into Gabriel’s ear, and Jesse can _see_ the goosebumps that are breaking out all over Gabriel’s body. “Want us to pull out? Jerk off on your fucked-out sloppy hole?!”

“Yeah, y-yeah, p-please?”

Jesse could _weep_.

He’s not sure how he manages to pull out a few moments after. He only knows that there’s a vague sense of humiliation niggling at the back of his consciousness about how ridiculously fast he’s already coming. He’s barely even dicked Reyes, and he’s already shooting off like a kid that just discovered jerking off.

He has one hand on Gabriel’s thigh, digging in his fingers, face contorted into an almost angry scowl as he stares at the gape, fist stripping his cock hard and fast. Jack is still inside him, of course, cock pulling against the rim and allowing Jesse to have a _peek_ inside the red hot, velvety channel that had been hugging him so nice and welcoming just a few seconds earlier.

He comes with a rough shout, cum hitting Gabriel’s sloppy rim in fat, hot ribbons that splash up against his perineum and balls and get everything sticky and messy.

Jack doesn’t even manage to pull out; he just groans and throws his head back, and Jesse can see his balls draw up, can see the pulsing of his goddamn dick beneath the mess of his cum as he fills Gabriel’s insides right up – and Jesse can not even goddamn fault him.


	5. Jack/Gabriel/Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gabriel/Jesse – a/a/a; submissive pissing (watersports); double knotting; cum inflation – Sometimes Gabriel gets very needy and subby.

When Gabriel feels submissive, his scent changes. It becomes somewhat more mellow; almost beta-like in how nice and unobtrusive it is; letting them know what he’s angling for even before he starts making bedroom eyes at them and folds his big body together – making himself seem smaller than he is.

There’s not as much dominance plays when he’s soft and needy like that, and it is a nice change from their usual aggressive Alpha fucking that they can’t help most of the time. They all love each other, but… It’s difficult when your head says the one thing and your instincts tell you another.

Gabriel is still very much huge, very much built like a shit brick house, and very much just _Alpha_ , but he’s also grown up with a lot of Omega and Beta siblings, and sometimes takes on their mannerisms, albeit subconsciously.

It mellows Jack and Jesse out nicely. Enough to treat him well when he’s low-key nesting and seeking bodily warmth every turn, going all sweet and docile on them. Lets them put him on all fours and nicely presents to them with just minimal knotting, big cock swinging beneath his belly as he doesn’t try to mount but instead spreads his thick thighs and lets one slide slick fingers into him while the other pets his head and urges his mouth to softly nurse at the tip of a cock.

He’ll get a bit shivery and cranky when they milk his prostate, but he’ll let them do that, too: fuck him open until there are the soft, wet sounds of their fingers sliding into him deep and intimate, then even bears down and helpfully angles his hips when they begin slowly, carefully circling the plump little swell of his prostate, ripe and ready for the picking with their brutish big fingers.

They’ll have a little bowl beneath him to catch the lazy drip of thick Alpha cum they coax from his soft dick, and they’ll be petting him when he gets shivery and anxious at the feeling of pressure and lust that feels almost alien, sitting in his guts and wanting to become an orgasm but never quite managing. Instead, he just coasts on the feeling, bearing down on the fingers every now and then, hips twitching down with it because sometimes there is just no way to stay still like a good boy…

And then, when he’s good and drained, panting wet and drooling against the virile Alpha cock presented to him instead of sweetly suckling and letting him gently nudge in further to try and throat fuck him –

Only when he’s nice and relaxed and out of it, crying softly out when someone touches his bruised feeling balls –

Only then do they finally shove themselves all around and into him. It is a slow process, painfully so, but there is no way around it. They can barely fuck him as is, needing to stop at every turn to calm his fussing down; Jack shoving a couple fingers against his tongue to let him nurse and suck the salt off his skin,and Jesse rumbling deep and intimate and calming against his back.

They are as soft with him like that as they never are when they all want to be on top, snarling and throwing each other around and viciously biting at each other until there’s a canvas of scars across their shoulders.

Here, Jack and Jesse can be doting Alphas, cooing at Gabriel, trying to calm him down as he gets a bit panicky and spaced out when their fat cocks fill him up. They growl,at each other, sometimes, across his shoulder, when their knots – still soft and vulnerable – press into each other particularly hard, but most of the time they just go along with the flow; let Gabriel show them what he wants and when he wants it.

Let him show them when he can tolerate the immense, mind-numbing stretch of them knotting him at the same time.

When he’s good and ready, Jack will curl his arms around him, hold him down and against his chest, making sure he can’t struggle too much when the intense stretch makes him want to flee from in-between them and save the cute little clench of his hole that is about to be destroyed on their cocks.

It’s not like it doesn’t affect them, though. All three of them will start whining like puppies, panicked and pained and helpless when their knots swell seconds before they start pumping him full, just not enough _room_ for any of it in the tightly hugging confines of Gabriel’s shaking Alpha body–

It’s not unusual that Gabriel will wet himself, then, but he still gets whimpering and mortified about it, big Alpha body shaking as he wants to but just can’t stop the flow of urine; pissing all over Jack’s belly as he lets them destroy him on their knots, getting his belly pumped full to the absolute brim with Alpha cum while he loses control over his body.

Nicely submitting to them; pissing and whining and being bloated with their cum when they are finally done spurting thick ropes of cream into him, belly obscenely bulging outwards when he holds himself up on shaking arms because it is too tender to have pressure put on it by lying down on Jack.

They’ll be crooning at him, of course; gentling him through the whole process – but it’ll be a long time yet until they’ll all come down from the addictive high.


	6. Hana/Hanzo/Jesse/Akande/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana/Hanzo/Jesse/Akande/Reinhardt – extreme gape; creampie; choking – Hana wants them so she gets them.

She’s a whore, plain and simple; waving her used up little candy cunt in their faces, mewling for a fuck and getting spitting angry when they do not comply.

She’s tried it for a while now, trying to entice them into taking her apart in their midst, but it takes her lewd display in the middle of the base to have them finally move and bend to her will.

Hana is on her back, her legs spread wide, her cunt a warning sign between her thighs as she pinches the fat nipples perched on her tiny tits and dares them to shut her up with their cocks.

Hanzo is the first to step up. Akande the second. They don’t care as much about her as a person as the other two do. They’re more interested in the sloppy holes she has to offer, and how they can show her and the whole world how well they can further destroy her.

Reinhardt and Jesse are more reluctant. They hover around the periphery, watching with worried, scrunched up faces as Hanzo takes her ankles in his hands (and how they look like little twigs, ready to burst if he just grabs hard enough) and fucks into her without much of anything.

It’s what he can do best, and what she loves most: getting speared on cock without any of the boring foreplay. Hana squeals, then quickly gets shut up by Akande tilting her head back with big gentle hands and his cock sliding slow but inexorable into her throat.

When she hacks and coughs, he pulls back, letting her take a few lungs of air, then he pinches her little nose shut and slides right back into the velvety grip of her throat.

Hanzo grins like a wolf, sharp and satisfied, commenting something about her snatch grabbing him like a vice when she spasms from lack of air, and then all bets are off.

When Hanzo finally breeds her up and steps to the side, McCree is there in an instant to take his place. Hana can only gurgle wet at the feeling of his bigger girth stretching her open in one burning thrust before he reaches up and curls his big hand around her slender throat.

Akande is to her side, fucking his spit slippery cock into her uncoordinated hand, his large fingers first pinching her tits, then slapping them sharp and hard while McCree rabbit fucks into her and croons: “There, that’s it… damn, but you are tight like this. Good girl, good girl-”

Reinhardt sits at her head, petting her hair, his one good eye on her blue-ish face as her eyes roll and she drools, wheezing for air as all the oxygen gets fucked out of her by McCree’s dick.

McCree shifts, pulls out, jerks off his cock against her gaping, candy red cunt. Gets her engorged clit sticky with it, then kisses two of his fingers and places them on the mound of her pussy, messy from his own cream.

“Nice, girly-girl. Thanks for that.”

Akande takes up his place. Reinhardt is wiping away drool and strands of hair as she wheezes for breath, a delirious grin on her face. Akande slides in slowly and she whimpers, tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes.

Reinhardt croons at her, then gently places his big hand across her nose and mouth and takes her breath away again.

They fuck and she squeals, and when they let her take some air, always flirting with the burning edge of her becoming unconscious, she takes in rattling breaths and wheezes for more dicks, blearily grabbing into the air, hoping someone will have mercy and just place a cock in her grip.

None of them are stupid enough to let her get her little fingers on them when she’s like this, though.

Reinhardt can’t choke her for too long. Sooner or later he pulls his hand away to let her have a rest, and Akande fucks her like a madman, dick spreading her open like a fist, the blunt tip pushing against her belly from the inside, bulging out obscenely, and when she looks down at her body, between her little tits, she looks like she has goddamn hearts in her eyes when she sees the cock through her belly.

Reinhardt does not quite want to fuck her yet when Akande pulls out, the men piling between her pathetically twitching thighs to watch her gaping cunt drool what he’s deposited into her guts.

They kill time by pinching her tits and wiping their dicks against her nipples. When Jesse has finally talked him into it, Hana is reaching both arms towards him to pull him in.

By the time he fits all of his dick into her she is sobbing from the stretch and the intense, deep ache of having the tip of his cock nudge intimately up against her cervix.

Jesse is shushing her this time, crooning and rolling one of her nipples between his fingers to distract her, while Akande and Hanzo are already disinterested now that they’ve had her cunt stretched on their cocks.

Reinhardt gives her the last little nudge, fucking her until she’s drooling again and forgot all about the pain of his way too big cock knocking against her insides. Her belly looks like she’s pregnant with dick, and Jesse helps her raise her head so she can stare at it with glassy, happy eyes.

She’s finally got what she wanted.


	7. Hank/Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank/Connor – skittish (gay) virgin Hank; body appreciation; coming untouched – Connor wants to fuck him and Hank just wants to quietly die.

Hank takes shuddering breaths that have his belly jiggling with the force. He is staring down, watching his cock roll pathetically across his lower stomach and getting the hair there sticky.

He groans and closes his eyes against the sight, hand lifting to drag across his mouth, the rasp of his beard against his palm very loud.

“Connor, _please_ ,” he tries again, voice breaking somewhat, muffled behind his hand. “I dunno what your obsession is with having me on my back, but… C’mon, give a man a break?”

His pale eyes are a bit watery when he opens them again, peering down at Connor. He winces at the sight of his legs spread around the eternal twink. He doesn’t see himself as the kind of whore that he looks like now; fat, hairy thighs around Connor’s head, the android’s face flushed a delicate blue, his big brown eyes glancing at Hank while he’s got two perfect, slender fingers shoved into an old man’s ass.

He’s not… He’s just not _made_ for shit like that. He’s too old getting his cherry popped by someone, and the only one sticking their fingers up his ass should be his goddamn doctor checking up on his prostate – but Connor… Well. He’s adamant. Looks like a goddamn puppy but can talk circles around Hank, making it sound like a good idea to lean back and spread his legs like a little lady and have him slide in deep, gentle and _knowing_ because he’s downloaded databases on how to best fuck Hank, probably.

Connor, true to form, looks crestfallen. He stops pushing his fingers into Hank, crooked just slightly so Hank knows they’re _there_  in his _ass_ , pushing against his insides, while Connor lifts on his elbows and looks at him with earnest concern.

“Am I hurting you, Hank?”

The little shit knows perfectly damn well he isn’t.

Hank grits his teeth and looks to the side.

“Nah.”

“You said you’d try it at least once. For me.”

Hank shifts a little, uncomfortable at the accusation. Connor is right, of course.

“Just don’t know what you what with an old fat whale like me I guess-” he rasps, then gasps when Connor shifts, sitting up on his knees without slipping his fingers from Hank, then using his free hand to slide it up Hank’s body; across the rasp of hair on his big gut and up to his flabby chest where he grabs one of his pecs like he’s groping a girl’s tit, and before Hank can slap his arm away, humiliated shame burning hot through him, Connor says: “I _like_ your body, Hank. It is very unique. Absolutely fascinating.”

He sees the immediate ugly twist to Hank’s mouth and says before Hank can pipe up: “I just really enjoy your body, Hank. To me, you are perfect.”

Hank’s eyes widen, a fierce flush starting to spread across his cheeks and he hides it by angrily throwing his arm across his face and muttering an ill-tempered “Aw, hell…”

“May I proceed?” Connor asks, voice carefully neutral but sounding smug _as_ _fuck_ , and Hank can only nod with bad grace.

Shortly after, he cries out in shock, body nearly jack-knifing at the molten heat suddenly pooling in his abdomen. Before h can weakly ask, Connor’s smug voice pipes up.

“Found it. I think we should proceed with things now, Lieutenant.”

.o.

Hank can see his own big crooked feet bouncing in the air behind Connor’s head, but he can’t make himself care about how absolutely fucking _ridiculous_ he has to look when Connor is dicking him so… earnestly.

There’s a small crease between his eyebrows, the little curl on his forehead bouncing in time with his thrusts, and Hank… Hank can’t goddamn _breathe_.

Connor’s cock is not particularly big in any dimension – is, in fact, an absolutely _perfect_ average – but to Hank it feels like he is being split open impossibly wide.

His legs are across Connor’s shoulders, making everything tighter and more sensitive, if he’s even needed that shit. His cock is a hot, plump wound against his lower belly, pulsing hectically in time with his heart beat and neglected by both of them.

His tits are jiggling when Connor fucks into him, his nipples hard and fat, and it all looks so goddamn _embarrassing_ , but Connor is staring at him with a focus that makes it difficult to speak up against.

The android’s face is set in what could almost be called a scowl, his cheeks flushed a dainty pastel blue as he works his slim hips and gives it to Hank; and every time he slides inside, his cock pushing up to his prostate like an overeager dog’s nose, nuzzling against it, pushing the button to release another warm, gooey wave of euphoria in Hank’s belly that makes him keep groaning and has his feet continue bouncing bonelessly behind his back.

All of this is a lot more fun when it’s connor he has beneath him, he thinks blearily. When Connor is getting wrecked on cock he sounds cute. He looks cute. He will be whining and whimpering and his insides will whirr like crazy, trying to cool himself down as Hank doesn’t need to do much more other than fuck him because his big belly will drag along Connor’s cock and that’ll be enough for the kid.

Now, there is no big belly to do the same for him. Just Connor with his earnest, focused face and his perfectly calculated thrusts to make him lose control and spurt thick ropes of cum against his own belly without so much as a little reach around.

Because apparently it is Hank’s lot in life to get systematically destroyed on this android twink’s dick and enjoy every second of it.


	8. Doomfist/Reinhardt/Lúcio/Baptiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomfist/Reinhardt/Lúcio/Baptiste – spit roast; DP; stomach/throat bulge; (extreme) size difference – Lúcio in the middle of them all.

Reinhardt is too old for any of the acrobatics the young folks are currently performing, but he definitely doesn’t say no to the first row seat he has, watching Lúcio’s face contort in desperate pleasure-pain as two fat cocks rudely make a space next to each other inside his body.

He doesn’t struggle much (after the initial panic when Baptiste nudged his wide cock against him when Akande has already filled him to the very brim) just lies against Akande’s front, arms hanging over his shoulder and body absolutely lax.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Reinhardt asks again when one of them shifts slightly and causes Lúcio to outright sob; a sound that peters off into a pathetic whimper. Lúcio is a good boy – always happy and laughing during sex – and seeing him reduced to an almost drooling mess is as much concerning as it is disturbingly arousing to Reinhardt.

Akande clicks his tongue at him. Definitely annoyed but too occupied with the tiny space he has to work with to say so. Lúcio looks… Small between their bodies. Very small.

Baptiste throws him a reassuring grin that somewhat wobbles at the edges. His voice is strained as he says: “It is all good! Don’t worry so much!”

Lúcio isn’t the only one affected by this. The reminder somewhat assauges Reinhardt’s worry. He fumbles with a phone that is customarily way too small for his huge hands, but manages to take a few pictures.

Akande growls at him like a wild beast at first when the flash of the camera lights everything in stark light for just a split second, but calms himself when he remembers that they all agreed on it.

Lúcio is usually too out of it to remember much of the times they take him apart on their cocks, so they have to take pictures. Not that it is much of a hardship.

Baptiste’s head leans forwards, pressing against the back of Lúcio’s shoulder. They are not moving as far as Reinhardt can tell, but whatever Lúcio does with that tight little body of his has both men panting like dogs, tongues almost lolling as they strain to hang on to any shred of dignity.

“Not gonna last long,” he announces with a strained voice.

Akande lifts his upper lip, showing white, perfect teeth in a superior yet menacing grin.

“Of course not,” he says, though his voice doesn’t sound any better. Reinhardt is not sure about the rivalry that had sprung up between these two formidable men, but he is not going to be the one standing in between.

In any case, the animosity seems to be rather one-sided. Baptiste doesn’t look like he takes offense as he starts smearing hectic kisses along Lúcio’s shoulders, breathing hard and fast, then suddenly stopping. There’s a beat or two of silence, then a drawn out groan from Baptiste as he ostensibly fills Lúcio up with his first load.

When he pulls back as carefully as can be (and still makes Lúcio sob) Reinhardt is already thrusting the camera at him, eyes trained on the sloppy mess of Lúcio’s hole.

“My turn.”

Lúcio is more alive already when Reinhardt slips onto the bed and makes it creak dangerously beneath his weight. He looks drowsy but eager, twisting away from Akande while still perched on his cock, and reaching for Reinhardt eagerly.

His eyes are heavy lidded and his face is tired looking after the extreme stretch from taking both men, but he does not seem worse for wear – so after Reinhardt gives him a kiss he’s begging for, he lets Akande impatiently bully them around the way he wants to.

Lúcio ends up being bend at the hips, whining about having to,stand on his own merits but quieting down real fast when he realizes that he’s presented with Reinhardt’s cock. He grins up at him, bright save for his tired brown eyes, then tries to curl his little hand around the massive girth because it never fails to excite any of them – to see just how much bigger they are than the little DJ.

Next to them, Baptiste is taking pictures.

.o.

It does not take long for Lúcio to get flustered and squirmy after he’s started looking at the pictures they have taken.

When he comes to the one of him getting double stuffed by Akande and Baptiste, he makes a soft, high-pitched sound, his eyes big and almost a bit scared.

“I look like this…?” he whispers, eyes gone glassy. “I remember it happening, but…”

His fingertips trace the line of his body peeking out between Akande’s and Baptiste’s massive bulks. He looks like a puppet with its strings cut.

When he flicks to the next picture, he makes a strange croaking sound, hand slapping across it, eyes big and shocked as they glance at Reinhardt and Baptiste still sitting on the bed.

“Oh my god…”’he whimpers, his hips shifting, carefully fucking his erection against the bedding as he takes his hand away and stares in shocked silence at himself, bnd over the side of the bed and stuffed front and back with dick.

His throat is looking obscene, bulged around the massive girth of Reinhardt’s cock – same as his belly that shows a distinct bump from Akande giving it to him from behind and fully enjoying his gaping, sloppy hole.

Lúcio remembers dimly thinking when his lovers fucked him that they have to be meeting in the middle soon… That when they come both of them will fill up his belly until it’s bulging and sloshing.

Seeing the picture, he realizes that he’s not been too far off.

“Damn.”


	9. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – hate fuck turned to gentle fuck; enemies to lovers; feelings – Sometimes it just is like this.

The explosion leaves everything ringing and surreal. Reaper drags his way out from underneath the rubble, his body strangely tender as the nanites scramble to get him back into working order.

His head his swivelling around, restless, searching for his target like a bloodhound.

A groan that sounds like gravel shifting has him turn and move to the right. None of his motions are as sharp as he would like them to be. He wants to prowl at Soldier: 76, but instead he sways and stumbles like a drunk bastard as his severe concussion gets dulled into something more manageable by the nanites.

He still sees double when he reaches the bright spot that is 76’s jacket, but by the time he leans down to grab his wrist and yank him upwards, the 4 fuzzy Soldier’s have coagulated into one sturdy, albeit limp man, groaning dazedly and hanging from Reaper’s grip like a sack of bricks.

“What are you moaning for?!” he hisses, voice strangely soft without his mask to distort it. For a second he is overwhelmed with a sense of panic when he realizes the explosion has ripped the white skull away from his face, but he pushes the emotion to the side. “ _I’ve_ taken the brunt of the explosion.”

It is true. They’ve been grappling for the Soldier’s pulse rifle when the deafening roar of the explosion had surprised them, causing Reaper to curl himself around the old Soldier to save him from the brunt of it, humiliatingly enough.

The Soldier pulls himself slowly together, getting feet underneath him and standing by himself, albeit very unsteadily. He lifts his grey head, peering at Reaper. He can feel it even through the goddamn visor he is wearing.

“You want me to thank you?” comes the reply. He sounds like he gurgled gravel, hunched over and holding his side where the SEP enhancement is busy knitting back together what are very probably broken ribs.

Reaper’s face twists, belly hot with fury as his legs move without his permission, propelling him forward until he slams into Soldier: 76. The Soldier grunts as the air leaves him with the force, and they both fall to the ground in midst of the rubble.

“Would it fucking _kill_ you?!” Reaper roars at him. They are grappling against the ground like children. Reaper wedges his talons beneath the edge of Soldier: 76’s mask and pries it off with a roar and sparks from the destroyed electronic flying.

The old man stares up at him, face twisted into an angry scowl, pale eyes narrowed.

“Happy now?” He says it infuriatingly calmly, voice still gravel rough. They’re breathing hard. Reaper is lying on him, letting him feel every single, goddamn pound.

“I am _never_ happy,” he finally bites back. It sounds dramatic enough that he lapses into embarrassed silence.

The Soldier stares at him with a shrewd expression on his once handsome face, then minutely shifts is hips, alerting Reaper to the fact that he’s not only letting him feel all of his weight, but also the insistent, needy erection he is sporting.

“Seems happy enough to me,” he growls back. He looks weird; like he wants to come across as angry or annoyed but can’t quite pull it off.

Reaper freezes, staring down at him; the little scowl on his mouth that does not quite reach his eyes, and he shoves at him again with growl, watching with satisfaction as his head hits the ground again.

“Fucking bastard,” he hisses, bearing down on him with his hips. Letting him feel the hot drag of his erection against… the Soldier’s own hard-on.

Soldier bares his teeth at him in a feral looking grin.

“Just like old times, huh?”

Reaper growls at him, wordless in his rage, talons digging into the thinning white hair as he ruts against him in hard, selfish thrusts. His belly is filled with magma, the air too thin for his lungs.

He wants to grind the Soldier into the fucking ground, but the old man just grins at him, taking the abuse and giving back just as good. His thick arms come around Reaper’s hips like bands of steel, squeezing him against his front, his thighs spreading to let him between them. Give a better angle for them to rut against each other while his white hair turns pink at points where the sharp tips of Reaper’s talon’s draw blood.

They are breathing in hot little puffs of air. Breathing _each other’s_ air. Reaper hadn’t even realized how his head had sunk down, forehead pressing against the old Soldier’s, their mouths wet and open as they pant for breath and their hips change from a harsh, punishing grind into something… softer. More pleasing.

Gabriel whines, high and reedy, and Jack curls his arms tighter around him in response. They are not quite kissing, but every now and then their lips will drag against each other wet and delicious. It makes Gabriel think of _way back then_ … when everything seemed to be just them, fucking like rabbits, whining against each other and grasping, grasping, grasping… not wanting to let go…

Jack’s and is crawling up, blunt fingernails scratching against the back of Gabriel’s skull until he can wrap his palm around it and pull him down further. Mash their mouths together in uncoordinated, sloppy kisses that are more wet, warm panting and licking tongues than anything else.

The harsh grinding has long since mellowed out into a gentle, sensual rutting in the midst of the carnage their earlier fight has left behind.

Gabriel’s belly is still filled with magma. 

He presses it against Jack and feels an answering heat.


	10. Sojiro/Hanzo; Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – nipple torture; dirty talk; slut shaming – Genji is too late and Hanzo gets the punishment for it.

“Genji.” Sojiro’s voice easily cuts through Hanzo’s breathy whining and makes the young man’s mouth shut with an audible little click.

Nobody talks when the Oyabun has the word – the rule still stands true even when one is speared on his cock and held open for the whole world to see.

Genji is sitting seiza at the door of the conference room – the exact spot he’s sunk down to three hours ago when he’d tried to slip in during the meeting and had been pinned by his father’s stare like a butterfly.

He straightens his shoulders a little, hands twitching on top of his thighs. He tries to look neutral, but there’s an excited flush crawling from his collar.

“Yes, father.”

“How many minutes have you been too late?”

Genji swallows. His dry throat is clicking so loud he thinks Sojiro has to hear it. Hanzo is watching him with glittering dark eyes. His legs are thrown far apart, across the arm rests of the chair Sojiro is resting in. Genji can see everything from the excited little jut of his cock, everything kept perfectly trimmed and naked as per their father’s orders, to his hole stretched around the fat cock, rim flushed a delicate red.

Hanzo’s wet mouth drops open in anticipation of Genji’s answer.

“Two minutes, father.”

Hanzo makes a wailing little noise that is quickly cut off after a sharp slap to his inner thigh. Genji can see their father’s handprint quickly blooming on it while Sojiro nods towards the back of the room.

“You know what to do.”

No reprimand, no scolding, nothing. It is useless: they all know what the price for Genji’s tardiness is, and Hanzo is starting to vibrate in Sojiro’s lap as they watch him rise and walk to the back of the room.

Sojiro’s hand falls easily between his son’s thighs, cupping his cock and feeling it drool against his palm like an overeager mutt. Hanzo is prone to tears, but his delicious little dick is giving him away time and time again. Sojiro has long since lost being impressed with his eldest son’s antics. Hanzo is a little performer.

Genji retrieves the box from the ornamented cupboard, holding it in front of him like an offering as he comes back towards them.

Sojiro keeps cupping Hanzo’s shame in one hand, and uses the other to palm one of his little tits, fingers plucking at the delicate silver ring pierced through his chubby nipple.

Hanzo remains blessedly quiet, but his insides are squeezing down on his cock like he is getting ready to bolt. He knows better than to run.

“Open it.”

Genji hesitates for a split second, his dark eyes flicking to Hanzo’s wet, uncoordinated stare, but in the end he obeys, of course.

Sitting on the dark blue velvet inside are little weights. They all bend their heads, contemplating them.

“Two minutes,” Sojiro finally says gravely. “A hundred grams for each.”

Hanzo whimpers, lifts his hand, presses it against his mouth to muffle himself. Sojiro tugs at the ring he has pinched between his fingers, hard enough to make the shy tip pop out of the fatty mound of Hanzo’s areola again and again.

“Put them on your brother, Genji.”

Genji balks, ready to deny, but Sojiro is cutting him off smoothly.

“It is your fault that your brother has to be punished. Maybe this will help you be on time in the future.”

Genji presses his lips into a tight line. He sets the little box down on the conference table, then plucks one of the 200g weights out of it. They’re small and shaped like tear drops, belying their actual weight.

The first one, Sojiro helpfully pulls the ring away from Hanzo's body, making his soft nipple stretch. Hanzo’s breath is quick and wet; the only thing to be heard as Genji clips the weight into the ring.

The next one he has to do himself, blunt fingertips groping a bit clumsily against his brother’s tit, nudging into the pudgy flesh of the areola. Hanzo _squeaks_ at that, but his father’s hand tightens around his cock and has him fall quiet again, hole working furiously around the dick lodged deep and unmoving in his guts.

Genji has to sit close by when Sojiro has Hanzo start bouncing on his cock. He has to watch as Hanzo’s nipples get pulled by the weights until the shy tips are popping out, fat and cherry red, and he has to listen to his brother’s wailing as he moves along their father’s cock, the motion continuously jiggling the weights, making sure he does not forget them any time soon.

The best… _worst_ thing about it all is Sojiro himself, though; his deep, calm voice a constant backdrop to Hanzo’s efforts, sitting back and letting himself get pleasures by his eldest son.

“You are not one iota better than Genji, Hanzo,” he tells him calmly, like Hanzo’s hole doesn’t have a death grip on his hole; like his body isn’t shuddering on top of him, wheezing at the feeling of his tits getting pulled by the weights. “You are both whores. Only that while he goes out sniffing for random dick, you are too addicted to your own flesh and blood to go on the prowl.”

He reaches around, fingers flicking against Hanzo’s cock.

“You are worthless little cum dumps,” he explains them patiently, his dark eyes boring into Genji who is flushed and sweaty. Enjoying the degradation as much as his whore of a brother. “Sloppy holes to be filled by my seed whenever I so desire.”

He bucks up sharply and Hanzo wails. He stares Genji down, who seems to shrink under his gaze, thinking of the old dick he’s been sucking; the cause for his tardiness.

“Yes, father,” he whispers. Hanzo sniffles.


End file.
